spill molten glass on my bruised lips
by The Lady Avaritia
Summary: He is everywhere. In his room, in his mirror, on his bed, between his sheets, ingrained deep into his skin, connected to him, slowly driving him insane with his maddening smile. NOT slash, deliberately misleading summary


**Title:** spill molten glass on my lips

**Rating: T**  
**Spoilers: G**eneral

**Characters**: Ron, Seamus

**Summary: **_He is everywhere. In his room, in his mirror, on his bed, between his sheets, ingrained deep into his skin, connected to him, slowly driving him insane with his maddening smile. NOT slash, deliberately misleading summary._

**Disclaimer: **disclaimed

**Author Note: For the "I thought you were dead!" dare on the HPFFC forums.**

**This story is set in a series of snap-shots, but they aren't in chronological order. I thought it might suit the subject, and style, and the eventual conclusion. **

**Also, though this is, by no means, a slash fic, I am a slash author, and I couldn't help but add some barely there subtext. If you look for it, you'll find it. **

**Author: **_Lady Avaritia_

Seamus is sitting in his room, rocking slowly back and forth on his heels, looking at the wall. The other boy in room is soaking wet, and there's a small puddle of muddy water where he's standing.

'Today's lunch had pumpkin pudding,' he remarks conversationally. 'You didn't eat any. You like pumpkin pudding, usually.'

'Sod off.'

'Now, now, is that a way to speak to your only visitor, even if I am non-corporeal? Is that the mouth you kiss your mother with?'

'Go away, Ron. I don't want to talk you.'

Ron throws his head back, and laughs, a loud hollow sound which echoes all through the padded white walls of the room, though technically in padded rooms sounds shouldn't echo. Seamus shudders, because it feels like he's being drowned in snakes, when that laugh sounds off of the walls of his scull.

Ron comes closer, moves impossibly close, his lips almost touching Seamus'.

'Pity that, mate,' he whispers silkily, 'Because here… you only got me.'

~x~

Lavender is crying. That bastard Weasley made her cry. How dare he, how dare he, just who does he think he is? Lavender is beautiful and sweet and kind, and just perfect, and now she is crying, oh Merlin, so much, she is crying so much, and just… HOW DARE HE?

But he'll take care of it. Lavender needn't worry. He'll fix everything. That slimy git Weasley won't hurt her anymore. Ever.

~x~

'Hey, Hermione, do you have any idea what a vengeance spirit is?'

Beside him Ron snorts to hide his laughter.

The bushy-haired girl raises an eyebrow.

'Why would you want to know?' she asks imperiously like only she's allowed to know things.

'No reason. I read it in a book.'

She twists her lips, as in, Since when do you read?, but Seamus ignores her.

'Well?'

The girl waves her hand dismissively.

'Supposedly, 'she begins haughtily, 'Supposedly, they are the spirits of people who have been killed, seeking vengeance on the murder. In most legends, they usually retain the appearance they had at the moment of death, and haunt their murderer for his entire life determined to get back to him. Eventually, they drive him insane.'

She laughs, rolling her eyes.

'As if that's possible,' she adds. 'It has been proven scientifically, that there's only two known ways for a human to come back from the dead – as a ghost, or through the use of a horcrux,' her nose wrinkles at the mention of hor-whatever. 'Vampires, Ghouls and zombies, notwithstanding. That's all. Vengeance spirits are nothing but hocus-pocus, wild urban legends, and there's that.'

If only you knew, Seamus thinks, and sends Ron a half-hearted glare as he doubles over in choking silent laughter, getting water all over the place.

'Thanks, Hermione,' he says.

'Oh, you're welcome. Hey, have you seen Ron this morning?'

The redhead, who'd just managed to calm himself, explodes into new fits of hysterical laughing.

~x~

Ron is walking along the lake after Quidditch practice, a few days after breaking up with Lavender.

A heavy lead sky hangs ominously, and iron clouds make a lazy, unmotivated passage over the sticky waters, which looks like they're been made of molten black glass, or some equally cold and hard substance.

It's chilly, but not unpleasantly so. There's almost no people around the grounds, though. Except for Seamus. Seamus's shirt sleeves are rolled up to his eyebrows, and his tie is undone.

'Seamus,' Ron greets, and waves, 'Hey, Mate!'

He's too far to notice the way Seamus' eyes darken, the way his jaw tightens, and relaxes, and how his lips press into a thin line.

When he's close enough, Seamus is offering him a smile.

'Ron, mate, how's life going?'

'Great, I suppose. Things are kinda awkward between me and Mione, but hey, she'll deal. How are you?'

'Me? Good, good. I'm worried 'bout Lav, though. She's crying a lot.'

'uh,' says Ron eloquently.

While they were talking, Seamus had directed them even closer to the lake, and now, before Ron knew what was happening, his roommate had disarmed him and flung him in the ice cold water, before following himself.

'Wha- Seamus, man, what are you doing?'

The boy isn't allowed to speak further, as Seamus throws himself at him, his fingers locking over Ron's long neck, and shoving him underwater. Though the turquoise waters, Ron's hair looks blood red, and his long limbs flail uselessly around him, as he attempts to break free and fails.

Seamus forces him further underwater, the bastard made Lav cry, filthy scum, piece of trash, who does he think he is, he has this coming, he deserves worse, bastard, how dare he, who does he think he is, the nerve?

Ron tries to breathe, tries to, wants to…

He can feel Death's gentle tap on his shoulder, like

Hello.

Who are you?

I'm pretty sure you know that, Weasley boy.

But… but…

No buts, kiddo. Look up.

Ron obeys. And what he sees leaves him speechless. He is truly at the bottom of the lake, and looking up, through the dark glacial surface he can see the weak gray light, and the outline of his own slender body floating, as Seamus slowly lets go. His arms and legs are spread, and his bright hair looks like a grotesque spill of blood.

So then… you coming?

~x~

'I will pay you back for this, Seamus Finnegan,' Ron says with a non-committal shrug. 'That's why I'm here, you see.'

He takes a step forth, and presses his hand against Seamus' chest where the heart is supposed to be.

'I. will. Ruin. You.' he says, punctuating each word by coming one step closer.

~x~

Seamus looks down at his handiwork. Blue imprints mar the milky skin of Ron's neck, where Seamus gripped him, his glossy blue eyes are wide open and accusing, and his thin lips are open in a last attempt to take some much needed air into his collapsing lungs, his mouth looking like a bruise on his face..

Seamus is soaking wet as he walks out of the water. He can feel the cold as it seeps though his heavy clothes, well past his skin, absorbed into his flesh, through his aching bones.

He's exhausted. The deed is done. There is no going back now. Hagrid will find the body around tomorrow morning. Lavender will cry. He will comfort her. She will realize he is the only one for her. End of story. The ugly Weasley is out of the picture now.

~x~

He is everywhere. In his room, in his mirror, on his bed, between his sheets, ingrained deep into his skin, connected to him, mind, soul and body, slowly driving him insane with his maddening smile, and his "Good Morning, mate, sleep well?" when he knows damn well that Seamus has had nightmares about his rotting body all night long.

He is permanent.

~x~

Seamus enters the empty dorm. Harry and Dean are at dinner, and there's no one else now that Ron's gone.

Except he's right there, sprawled on his four poster bed, soaking wet, leaving a large wet stain on the red quilt, which looks disgustingly like blood.

'What? Ron? I though you were dead!' Seamus exclaims.

'Yeah, mate,' Ron says, 'About that. Pretty rude what you just pulled. It really stung my feeling. Worse than a bloody Slytherin, you know.'

'No,' says Seamus, working up a slow anger, and brings his wand up, 'No, no, no. You are dead. I killed you. If I have to do it again, so be it.'

'Come on, now, mate.' Ron gets up from the bed, dripping water in all directions. His skin is sallow, and kind of like candle wax. His freckles look more like stains on it than anything, and his hair has retained the bloody quality about it. He smiles slowly, reassuringly at Seamus, and the other boy moves, back, tries to get away, still pointing his wand.

'Lower that, Seamus, you don't want to hurt anyone,' Ron says smartly, and reaches with his hand to grasp Seamus' wrist. Frantic, the other boy shoots the first hex that comes to mind and realizes two things.

First. Ronald Weasley's hand just passed through his wrist.

Second. His hex just passed though Ronald Weasley.

And those two, combined, lead to a very unpleasant third conclusion.

'You're a ghost.'

Ron grins widely. It's not his usual bright grin. He manages to make this one completely malevolent and entirely devoid of meaning.

'Better yet, mate,' He says, 'I'm a vengeance spirit.' And his voice oozes ill intent. Seamus screams.

~x~

Ron is kinda gorgeous when he stands in front of the window and sunlight streams through him as he stretches drops of water falling on the small table.

He smiles at Seamus.

'I think I might like it here in St. Mungo's' he says cheerfully. 'What about you, mate?'

Seamus is sitting in his room, rocking slowly back and forth on his heels, and he's talking with a dead boy that only he can see.

'Just go away, Ron,' he whispers brokenly. 'Please, just leave me.'

Ron sits down beside him and wraps his cold wet arms around his body.

'Now why,' he whispers, and his bruise of a mouth is against Seamus's lips, as their noses almost touch, and the other boy's large eyes look at him in terror, 'would I do that? After all… I am all you've got left.'

His laughter is like music for the insane, bubbling and angry and full of misery.


End file.
